


Doctors Without Borders

by eleanor_lavish



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-10
Updated: 2005-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 02:18:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House has a conference.  Grissom has a jacuzzi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctors Without Borders

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://saturn92103.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://saturn92103.livejournal.com/)**saturn92103** , who planted the bunny and squealed over it in a Mexican restaurant for hours. Snarky fun, with a side of slightly dark sex, just for you!

 

Gil looked wearily around the hotel lobby, scanning for a free check-in counter. In the distance, he could hear the all-too-familiar *dings* of slot machines, coupled today with the unfamiliar tangy scent of salt sea air. Why this entomology conference had to be in Atlantic City was beyond his ability to reason after a 14-hour shift and a five-hour flight. Right now, all Gil wanted was to get to his room and crash.

"Overwhelmed by the glamour of all this, or just are you just blind?"

"Huh?" Gil turned toward the clipped voice, laced heavily with sarcasm.

A tall man clad in jeans and a messily buttoned blue shirt stood behind him, leaning heavily on a wooden cane. He was young, or at least a few years younger than Gil, and his eyes were striking in their intensity and intelligence. They were also widening in continued annoyance. Gil blinked out of his stupor as the man motioned with the cane toward the front of the room. "The counter is open. Hello?"

"Oh. Right. Sorry about that." As Gil gathered his bags sheepishly and walked toward the haggard-looking woman at the desk, he saw Michael Franklin, President of the Society, approaching. He took a deep breath, steadying himself for an onslaught of questions from Mike on his new paper. Mike was insufferably cheerful-- and Gil never quite knew what to do with him. But to Gil's surprise he walked right past him, stopping in front of the man with the cane.

"Dr. House! We are so very excited to have you here this weekend!"

"Yes, well," And Gil could hear the sarcasm in the man's voice ratchet up a notch, "a weekend talking about bugs with you people was just too fun an opportunity to pass up." Gil heard the rattle of a bottle and turned to see the man pop two small, white pills before continuing. "Besides, it was this or sit through yet another Saturday of pulling random objects out of people's orifices that they _swear_ got there by accident. So, lucky you, the intestinal parasites win again!"

With that, the man limped toward the counter next to Gil, leaving a dumbstruck Mike in his wake. Gil grinned at the check-in girl.

"We’re low on regular rooms, so you've been upgraded to a suite," she noted blandly. At the same time, Gil heard the man growl in anger ten feet down the counter.

"What do you mean, you don't have the reservation? The only reason I'm not staying in my own comfortable bed this weekend is because I was promised a room, for free, with a bar in it. A big one."

Gil chuckled and Dr. House looked his way. "Seems I’ve been given a suite. We could share..." He waved his suite keycard and smiled. It was a joke, and a ridiculous one that he would ever have made without the lack of sleep, and Gil was surprised when the doctor considered him for a moment.

"What's your name?"

"Grissom. Gil Grissom, from the Vegas Crime Lab."

"You got a jacuzzi?"

The girl behind the counter nodded in response. Dr. House tilted his head slightly, the expressive eyes narrowing for a moment. "Sounds like a plan, then." And he started toward the elevators, motioning to Gil with tilt of his head. "Get my bag, would you. I'm a cripple."

*

Gil had thought it would be awkward, trapped into conversation with a total stranger, but somehow he hadn’t felt the need to say anything in almost 30 minutes. Dr. House, or ‘House’ as he insisted on being called, had busied himself rifling through the bar and the desk drawers, occasionally pocketing something he liked and keeping up a running commentary at the expense of the hotel staff. It was incredibly mean-spirited but… amusing. As soon as he dropped his suitcase on the floor, Gil had pulled his jacket and shoes off and laid down on one of the immense beds. He wasn’t usually up for company while he slept, but he really couldn’t keep his eyes open. He drifted off somewhere around House’s tirade about why Bibles should be kept in hotel bathrooms and not nightstands.

By the time he woke, it was already dark. The room was empty, and Gil rushed to dress for the opening banquet. He managed to get to his table just as the opening speeches were finishing and hid a smile at the thought that he couldn’t have planned his timing any better. Looking up at the parapet, he could see Dr. House sitting between Mike and a woman who looked a shade under eighty years old. Gil couldn’t quite suppress his grin at that, and it only grew when House caught his eye and glared. Gil ate his dry chicken dinner as quickly as possible and excused himself, hoping to get a few hours in with his notes before his panel in the morning. He was sidetracked at the elevator by a few kids who were doing grad research on the dermastid beetle, and by the time he made it back to his room, it wasn’t empty.

“So, Dr. Grissom.” House stood in front of the open refrigerator and greeted him with a wry smile and a tip of his half-full glass. “What’s your poison?”

It wasn’t until he was halfway through his third scotch and a conversation about where insects would fit in the modern food pyramid that Gil realized the conference probably wouldn’t pay for the minibar. When he noted this, House just shook his head.

“All this time at these things and you still haven’t learned to work the angles? I’m disappointed.”

“I’m not really a work-the-angles kind of guy.” Gil spoke more to his glass than the rumpled figure on the opposite bed. House was propped up on all the pillows, long legs stretched out in front of him. He shifted uncomfortably every few minutes. Gil’s eyes were instinctively drawn to the cane propped against the wall. He looked away quickly when House began talking again.

“They’d pay for lap dancers and blow if we asked. You see, they _want_ us here. They _need_ us here. If we were not here, these conferences would descend into chaos, with poor socially retarded science geeks drowning themselves in booze from sheer boredom.”

Gil was happy enough to be included in House’s “we” statement. Curiously, House thought he was less of an idiot than the rest of the Society. Gil didn’t argue, but he wondered if House only had such a high opinion of him because he had a Jacuzzi. And generally kept his mouth shut. For instance, he refrained from pointing out that, at that moment, he and House were the socially retarded science geeks drowning themselves out of boredom. When House shifted again, wincing a bit, Gil hoisted himself a little unsteadily off of his bed.

“I think we really out to check out that Jacuzzi.” He managed not to stumble on his way to the bathroom and turned on the hot jets. Whatever was bothering House’s leg, he wasn’t saying. But a hot tub never hurt anything. _Unless you poisoned yourself and then drowned in it._ Gil frowned a little. Even his subconscious was macabre when he was drunk.

House appeared noiselessly at his elbow, popping a few more white pills. “Afraid I’m going to overdose and drown?” Gil’s head shot up fast, but all could manage to do was blink in reply. “Well, if you’re that worried, we could always make sure I had company. Bet the concierge knows some top notch hookers.”

“Hookers?” Gil was pleased that his voice was as dry as House’s.

“Oh, that’s _right_. You’re from Vegas. Vegas hookers probably look like Angelina Jolie next to hardcore Atlantic City hookers. Don’t want to give you a bad impression of our fair city.” House took off his shirt and threw it in the corner. Gil swallowed hard. “You want in, then? You’re not as fun as a hooker, but I bet you’re a hell of a lot cheaper.”

By now, House had his pants undone and unzipped, and Gil was reasonably certain the doctor was just trying to get a reaction. He didn’t seem to realize that Gil had seen way more risqué things than a middle aged doctor in a hotel hot tub. He wasn’t likely to be embarrassed by much. Even if said doctor had eyes that were uncommonly intelligent and a razor sharp wit to match. And a body that looked perfectly respectable-- especially for a man who spent most of his time leaning on a cane.

House placed his glass on the sink, leaned his cane on the side of tub and stepped out of his jeans. Gil watched as he slid carefully into the water, suppressing the urge to reach out and lend a hand when he stumbled a little on his bad leg. He had a feeling House wouldn’t take kindly to anything resembling pity. The boxer shorts he was wearing covered the thigh, but Gil could see the end of a small scar snaking down his leg. He was snapped out of his reverie by a low murmur.

“You getting in or what, Grissom?”

 _Well, what the hell?_ Gil stripped down to his underwear and climbed in the other end of the Jacuzzi. It was big enough for two, but only barely. He didn’t apologize when his foot brushed House’s knee. When House opened his eyes and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, Gil just rewarded him with an enigmatic smile and a small shake of his head. House was definitely attractive and sexy in that brilliant way that Gil rarely found in his usual circles in Vegas. Gil was certainly attracted enough to turn their odd pairing into something more like a hook-up.

His only issue was whether House was on the same page, or if he was just flirting to see how far he could push it before Gil stammered and fled, leaving House to enjoy a laugh at his expense and a big, empty hotel suite.

As they sat and soaked, House would occasionally shift with a soft sigh, banging his knee into Gil’s leg. Gil was relaxed from the scotch and the steam and smiled a little as the long day eased out of his joints. He was not quite surprised when he felt a foot on his thigh, toes teasing between the fabric of his boxers and his wet skin. Gil was never one to reveal all his cards, and he’d been playing his attraction to House close to the vest. He had a feeling House was doing the same thing. Gil thought through for a moment and decided that if House was being serious, he was all for it. If he wasn’t, then Gil would be the one to end up with a big suite all to himself.

He gazed across the Jacuzzi with hooded eyes and savored the moment that House’s look of amusement froze on his face in confusion. Gil barely contained a smile.

“I just think this would go much quicker if you just told me what sort of reaction you were looking for.” _How’s that for turning the tables?_ Gil wouldn’t break eye contact and he could see House pause, like he was trying to figure out the answer. Gil knew if House was given too much of a chance to think, he’d lose the upper hand. In one fluid motion, he was on his knees and leaning forward until his hands rested on the porcelain on either side of House’s head. “I mean, do you want me to react like your average, straight-laced science geek, or do you want me to bend you over the edge of this tub and fuck you senseless. I can do either, I just think it’s easier if you let me know now. You don’t seem like the kind of guy who likes surprises.”

House’s breathing was shallow now, his pupils dilating, and Gil pretty much had his answer. But before he could push the issue, House slid further into the tub until his fingers brushed the inside of Gil’s thigh. “See, now, that just proves you don’t know me very well at all Dr. Grissom. I _love_ surprises.”

“Do you?” Gil quirked an eyebrow and slid his knee forward until it was nestled firmly against House’s crotch. House was half-hard already, and Gil’s eyebrow rose another inch. “Looks like this isn’t a huge surprise to you, actually.”

“Surprise, no. Huge…,” House grinned and ran his hand up and over the curve of Gil’s hip, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Gil’s boxers and pulling them down slowly. Gil leaned his full weight on his left hand as the right cupped the back of House’s neck. He moved forward as a warm hand closed around his cock. House gasped at the increased friction from Gil’s knee, moving his good leg so Gil could draw closer. Gil’s mouth found the sensitive spot under House’s ear and sucked hard as he thrust slowly into House’s hand, against House’s pelvis.

House growled low in his ear. “Fuck, Grissom.”

Smiling against warm skin, he replied, “It’s Gil.”

“…Greg.”

Gil licked his Adam’s apple. “Good.”

“Ah, alliteration,” was all Greg managed before Gil kissed him, tasting whiskey and mint and ginger ale. Greg kissed with less force and more intensity than Gil had expected, all slow swipes of his tongue and quiet moans. Between Greg’s hot mouth and his even hotter hands, Gil was dizzy.

They managed to make out in the Jacuzzi for a grand total of five glorious minutes before Gil’s knees were screaming and his hand was slipping on the wet tub. Greg had amazing hands—surgeon’s hands—and Gil was loathe to pull away, but he could feel the muscles in Greg’s leg straining and knew the position wasn’t altogether comfortable for him either. Besides, Gil was already on the edge, and he needed a minute to cool down. He had Greg for the whole night, and he wanted to savor it.

Pulling away, he was happy to see that Greg needed a minute too, panting and blinking at the loss of contact. Gil stood carefully and shivered in the coolness of the room.

“Bed. As nice as this is, I think we’ve officially become too old for Jacuzzi sex.”

Greg looked affronted. “Speak for yourself, old man!” But he winced as he hoisted himself onto the ledge of the tub. Gil wanted to reach out and help again, but he knew somehow that Greg would react badly. So he tossed his wet boxers in the corner of the bathroom and busied himself putting on the fluffy white robe that hung on the back of the door, tossing the second one to Greg. He wandered out into the main room of the suite as Greg retrieved his cane.

The beds in the suite were unnecessarily large and Gil stretched out on the closest one, closing his eyes. He was still wonderfully hard, and he hissed as the robe slid open against his sensitive skin. The hiss turned into a stuttered breath when the slide of cotton continued over his hip and Greg’s hand, cool now from the cold of the room, traced an icy pattern over his torso. Gil looked up to see Greg standing over the bed, leaning heavily on his cane and grinning wickedly. “Cold?”

“A bit,” Gil managed through clenched teeth as Greg’s fingers tickled his inner thighs.

“Sorry,” Greg chuckled as one nail scratched slowly over Gil’s scrotum.

Gil bucked slightly. “No, you’re not.”

“That’s true. Very _good_ , Gil. It’s like we’ve known each other for _hours_.”

Gil grabbed Greg’s wrist and sat up fast enough to cause the other man to take a quick step back. “You know, some people don’t like a tease.” Gil could hear it in his voice—that low, quiet intensity that tended to scare some lovers off. It was a contest between the voice and the tight heat in his belly that came with it and a complete loss of control.

Greg looked from the place where Gil’s fingers were closed around his wrist to Gil’s hooded expression. His eyes were brighter than Gil had seen them before. “I’m not a tease.” He tugged until Gil let go of his arm and took a second step back.

“Is that so? Come here and prove it.” He tried to pull back on the intensity but he really couldn’t. It had been a long time since Gil felt this sort of primal connection to anyone, and he couldn’t _not_ push. He just hoped it wasn’t too far.

But Greg took that moment to smile slowly, darkly at him. His reply was laced with as much if not more repressed power than Gil’s, more a growl than an actual answer. “Why don’t you make me?”

After one frozen second, he launched himself off the bed and into Greg. The kiss this time was wet and hot and deep, Greg pushing Gil’s robe to the floor roughly, Gil throwing Greg’s cane across the room where it hit the wall with a resounding thud. When they were both naked and flushed, Greg’s hands leaving harsh imprints on Gil’s back, Gil walked them back the two steps to the second bed. He pushed Greg back onto the mattress and didn’t slow down even after his pained gasp. Greg tugged on the hair at the nape of Gil’s neck hard enough to bring pinprick tears to Gil’s eyes and he responded with a bruising bite to Greg’s left collarbone.

They were bucking hard into one another; the room filled with the sounds of slick skin and rumbled moans. When Greg’s good leg wrapped loosely around his waist, Gil came to his senses long enough to glance across the room to his bag. “Shit. Condoms.”

“Hmm?” Greg’s flitted open.

“I don’t usually bring condoms to my entomology conferences,” Gil explained wryly.

Greg shook his head in mock disappointment. “Well then, it’s a good thing I’m such a boy scout.” He motioned to the backpack resting against the wall. “Front pocket.”

Gil grinned and kissed him quickly. The bed groaned as he got up and crossed the room. He was halfway back when Greg let out a wolf whistle. Gil was about to chastise him for acting fourteen when he finally took note of the scar. It was bigger than he’d thought originally, running from his hip almost to his knee, and the muscle was thinner there as well.

“Infarction. Five years ago.” Greg’s voice was cold when Gil looked up, and his eyes were colder. “Saves you the trouble of asking.” Gil ran through his moderate medical knowledge until he figured out what Greg was talking about. Infarction in his leg means…

“Ouch.”

Greg’s eyes darkened even more. “No worse than a bee sting. Honestly.”

Gil could almost see Greg’s defenses going up. He wondered briefly how many times Greg had had this conversation. He reached the end of the bed and looked down at the doctor’s tense form. Slowly he ripped open the condom wrapper and rolled it tightly up his shaft. Greg’s breath caught slightly as Gil kneeled on the bed and crawled up Greg’s body, not bothering to avoid his bad leg.

Gil leaned in and spoke directly in Greg’s ear. “Tell me what you want me to do.” The intensity was back, and Gil could feel Greg’s body start to move under him.

“I want you to fuck me.” Greg wrapped a hand around Gil’s shoulder and pulled him closer. “And I don’t want you to be nice about it.”

Gil chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m not really known for being a nice guy.”

He reached down and began to roughly stroke Greg, his thumb making wide sweeps over the head of his cock until he was arching up and into him. He slicked his hand with precum and slid it lower. Greg spread his good leg open and Gil entered him with one expert finger. Greg reached instinctively to clutch at the headboard, dark head thrown back against the white sheets. Gil added another finger quickly, and then another, ignoring the small whines of discomfort. When Greg was finally cursing beneath him, Gil rose to his knees and slowly pulled his fingers free. Greg looked down just as Gil was trying to figure out the best angle to enter him without putting any weight on Greg’s thigh.

“You’re thinking too much, Dr. Grissom.” Greg wasn’t smiling, but Gil was glad that the dry humor was back in his voice.

“My apologies, Dr. House.” Gil settled comfortably between his legs. All the lubrication they had was the small amount on the condom, but Gil wasn’t surprised when he slid in without so much as a whimper from Greg. That sort of burn must be nothing compared to the constant pain in his leg. He started his strokes slow and shallow but it wasn’t long before Greg was urging him deeper, one long limb slung over Gil’s shoulder until he was bent nearly in half. It was rough, rougher than Gil was used to, but Greg was babbling helplessly below him and Gil couldn’t stop if he tried. He fucked Greg with his full weight, ignoring the part of him that wanted to be gentle, to spare him some of the obvious pain. But he could see the pain Greg was feeling was bringing him some kind of release, some kind of distraction from the everyday pain he carried around. He watched as Greg stroked himself until he was coming hard and fast. Gil slowed down to let him ride it out and then sped up again, pushing himself over the edge quickly, biting down hard on the inside of Greg’s knee and savoring the appreciative moan.

He collapsed bonelessly on the bed next to Greg and listened as their ragged breaths evened out.

“So.” Greg stretched his arms up over his head and Gil winced for him as he heard the joints pop. “We really should try to figure out the sex in the Jacuzzi thing. There has got to be a way to make that work.”

Gil half-smiled into the sheets. “I’ll leave that to you. I have a lecture to prepare for.”

“Hmm. Boring. I think your first order of business is to get dressed and buy us more condoms.”

“Greg…” Gil began to mutter a warning and cut himself off with a laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just… I use that tone and that word a lot together back home.”

Greg squinted at him before nudging him with a bare knee. “Seriously. Condoms.”

“And why am I elected for this oh-so-wonderful task?”

Greg snorted and looked at him incredulously. “You may have failed to notice, doctor, but I do have a slight handicap.”

Gil snorted and shook his head. Greg dragged his fingers enticingly down Gil’s side. “Maybe I can make it worth your while…”

Fifteen minutes later, Gil was on the elevator down to the ground floor pharmacy, cursing Gregory House and his damn surgeon’s hands.


End file.
